Ruby

Last night I fell asleep to Anita Moorjani’s Deep Meditation for Healing. I awoke just before four o’clock with quite a headache. I went into the bathroom (my bedroom is a cocoon, but my bathroom has a full height window and skylight) and was struck by the brightness of the moon, since the Super Moon was several days ago. I tried to go back to bed, but the headache and pain in my frozen shoulder (I’m in month three) was too great, so I felt my way to the bedroom door to stumble my way to the kitchen pantry for an ibuprofen. But when I opened the bedroom door, the hallway with its windows and skylights was LIT, as if with blue sunshine. When I saw the kitchen deck aglow I just had to go outside, but paused. I used to dance in the moonlight during the heart of my grief, to a single song I played on repeat that encapsulated the love and adoration my mom embodied. So I went back to the bedroom for my phone, and outside I went with my song, under the moon and stars and trees. I touched the tree that grows through my deck, smelled it, smelled the forest in its silent four a.m. air, its gentle silence now vibrating in my song.

I felt I needed my headphones to immerse myself. I don’t know why, as they’re new and I never used to need them. So back to my room I went, and the moon led me to the center of the house, under the largest skylight.

In renovating the neglected house I purchased a few years ago (the only home even near my budget, but wasn’t even habitable) I discovered it is shaped like a cross, and this giant skylight is at the heart of the cross. My mom loved that. There I danced, my song on repeat, but with a very different effect. I used to dance out my grief during the night—let it seep from my joints and bones and muscles and cells, escaping out into the Universe. But on this night, with the song directly in my ears, I realized it was FOR ME. The love was for me. This dancing was not to release, but to invite love IN to all of my joints (including that effing shoulder!), my muscles, my heart, my very cells and DNA. The song I once played with such emotion for my mom was now from my mom to me; from Source to me; from me to me. I danced for an hour, at times imagining my close friends and my maternal lineage (all long “gone”) with me in this moonlight, dancing to celebrate and bask in this Universal love together.

I suddenly craved a cold nectarine, took one from the refrigerator, and at nearly five a.m. I bit in—so juicy I had to eat it over the sink—and its sweetness and cool hydration added to my sensory joy. I thought about the poet Joy Sullivan, who has written of juicy summer fruits running down her chin, and thought how connected we all really are. There is a piece in every human that is comprised of the same divinity. We are all the same being, just in different containers.

I returned to bed, listened again to the hour-long healing meditation and finally slept, waking full of wonder and excitement and love. For MYSELF! No words.

In case you’re wondering about the song….Ruby Amanfu’s Beautiful, You Are.

Until next time.

Xoxo,

Jenny